Resolutions
by gaang
Summary: Taking place after Katara faces her mother's killer, Katara and Zuko reflect on Katara's mercy, the "right" versus "wrong" thing, and above all else, hope. (Currently a one shot. May become more).


_SETTING: Season 3, Ep. 16: "The Southern Raiders." - The time between Katara displaying mercy on Yon Rha and meeting back up with the rest of the Gang._

"Are you cold?"

Zuko shivered, digging his chapped fingers into Appa's coat. His clothes and hair were still wet from the earlier rainfall, and flying in the clouds didn't help with drying. The morning sun was still nowhere in sight; Zuko yearned for it to come sooner rather than later. He sat atop Appa's head while steering, as he had been for the past few hours, and glanced back to see the back of Katara's head. Zuko had no doubt that she was preoccupied with a million and one thoughts. Confronting your mother's killer would do that to you. "Are you cold?" he repeated, not even really sure why he was asking; it wasn't like he could do anything to make her feel warmer.

"I'm fine." Her voice was coarse, thick with a multitude of emotions that Zuko himself could identify with. Bitterness, rage, wrath, but above all else, sadness, not unlike the inky sea beneath them. In a strange way, Zuko felt comforted by the fact that he wasn't the only tempest of the group. Though, his emotions had managed to gather themselves together remarkably well over the past couple of weeks.

Zuko felt even more comforted that Katara, of all people, was the one who was overcome by emotions. It meant that he wasn't a completely horrible person.

Zuko wondered if he should say something, especially since they were getting closer to camp, but he didn't know what. "_You did the right thing_," felt awkward and strange, because Zuko wasn't quite sure _what_ the right thing was. It seemed that he never did.

_If only Uncle were here to guide me_.

The thought dropped like a sack of rocks into Zuko's mind and straight to his gut. Instantly, he felt the guilt and shame threatening to make him—spirits forbid—_cry_, but he managed to regain his composure. Thinking about the good that they'd had, rather than the fact that he'd messed things up by betraying him, helped.

Like the day Uncle first opened the doors to the Jasmine Dragon. The day when they believed that the Earth King really was inviting them to the royal palace (well, ignoring the fact that it was one of Azula's tricks, it really was quite a nice memory to have). The day Uncle basically acted as Zuko's wingman for that girl in Ba Sing Se.

It turned out that Uncle knew exactly what Zuko needed and when he needed it, but now that Uncle wasn't around, Zuko was left to figure things out on his own.

As it had done many times that night, Zuko's mind wandered off and he thought about his own mother. His father had said that she was banished, not executed, for her "treason," whatever that may be. So she may very well be alive and waiting for Zuko to find her. A small flame flickered inside of him. His father had sparked _hope_ in him. Or perhaps it was all just foolishness.

But, then again, Aang had been Zuko's source of hope for years: hope for his honor, his father's acceptance, his place on the throne…and so far, his hope hadn't failed him. Zuko may have no longer hoped for Ozai's "love" and "acceptance"—Zuko doubted Ozai was even capable of loving, anyway—but he had, dare he say, friends. He felt like he belonged with these people.

Well, except for Katara. He still had no idea where they stood relative to one another.

The sky above them began to brighten gradually, going from a murky black to a dark gray. Zuko breathed out a small puff of hot air, a short, gentle ember bursting from his mouth before dissipating into thin air. A narrow strip of land made its way into Zuko's vision. "We're almost here."

Katara didn't respond.

Appa landed at the end of wooden dock protruding from the bay. Zuko rubbed his eyes and jumped off, feet landing almost without any sound. Katara, too, landed lightly, her back turned away from Zuko and towards the vast expanse of the ocean. Zuko noticed that she'd shed her dark outer layers and was now in her typical Water Tribe uniform. Appa began making his way down the dock while Katara took a seat at the edge of it, Zuko caught in between keeping Katara company and returning to camp. He yawned and realized how exhausted he was then, thinking that some time alone would be better for her, began following Appa's steps.

"Wait." Katara's voice halted him in his steps. It sounded so _vulnerable_ that Zuko wasn't sure how to react. "Can you…do you mind just sitting?" The _with me_ perched right on the tip of her tongue; it didn't need to be spoken for Zuko to hear it.

"Of course not," he said quietly. Zuko didn't know how close or far was deemed appropriate—after all, every time he got near Katara, she seemed to close up her guard even further—but the width of the dock didn't offer much wiggle room. He sat cross-legged to the right of Katara, who stared down absentmindedly as the tips of her toes skimmed the surface of the water. Was he supposed to say something? Or just sit here awkwardly like a limp noodle? His relationship with Katara—if it could even be called that—was, at this point, very fragile, and the last thing Zuko wanted to do was ruin it by saying something stupid.

Thankfully, Zuko didn't have to initiate conversation. "Did I do the right thing?" Katara's brows were drawn so far down and her lips pursed in such a tight line. Zuko was familiar with that look. He knew that look because she'd given it to him a countless number of times, so it was strange to see it directed at something else. It was almost uncanny how much Katara's expression mirrored that of angry-Zuko's. Her cobalt eyes were darker and her usually radiant features seemed strangely warped.

Katara, the mother of the group, the caretaker, the compassionate, loving one—was full of hate. Whether or not it was loathing towards Yon Rha or self-loathing for not killing him, Zuko didn't know. But he was certain that this little glimpse into who she was right now was something that he'd only see once in his lifetime.

"You're asking _me_, of all people?" Zuko's lips curved into the slightest of smiles. It was no secret that Zuko's past morals had been extremely questionable. "Talk about irony."

"Do you?"

Zuko paused. "I think you did a good thing," he answered slowly.

"But not the right thing."

"Right things and good things…aren't mutually exclusive," Zuko said. "I don't know if you did the right thing, but you did a good thing."

"I bloodbended a man."

The word sent shivers down Zuko's spine. He never quite understood just how powerful a bender Katara was; he'd seen her heal and he'd seen her in battle, but this was a new level. The level of raw power, precision and deadly accuracy Katara had, manipulating a person's liquid in their body? Not to mention the extreme control she had over the ice spears she'd thrown at Yon Rha, stopping them only mere inches from his body.

Though he'd never admit it, Zuko knew that if they were ever to spar when Katara was at her strongest, he'd lose in about two seconds flat.

"You were angry."

"I _bloodbended_ an innocent man." Katara stared down at her hands then clenched her fists and grit her teeth. "Something I'd _vowed_ to never do, ever since Hama had revealed it to me, and I did it _without a second thought…_"

"Good people do bad things," Zuko replied. "But you did a good thing, sparing your mother's killer's life."

"It doesn't feel good," she said. "Actually, it feels pretty bad. My mother, she…I loved her. It's not fair for her, for me—"

"Your mother's gone, Katara," Zuko said softly, "and it's not your fault." He looked down at his own reflection in the water. Part of his words he said to himself. He wanted to and needed to believe it. "It's not your fault she loved you so much."

Katara sighed. She still hadn't glanced at Zuko, but instead leaned forward with her resting elbows on her knees. "That's the thing, Zuko. It _is_ my fault. If I hadn't been born a waterbender—"

"Stop."

"Or if my mother had just told him it was—"

"If your mother had willingly given you up to Yon Rha," Zuko firmly said, "then you'd be dead. Sokka would have to grow up an only child and your parents would have to live with the pain of losing a daughter." Zuko watched streams of light pour over the horizon and, feeling the warmth tingling his skin, he felt more awake than before. "If you weren't a waterbender, Aang would still be stuck in the iceberg. He would have never learned waterbending." He paused before continuing in a softer tone, "And I…I'd be stuck running around the world foolishly, stuck under my father's authority.

"So don't make it sound like the world would've been better off if you weren't who you are today. Because that's a lie."

A single tear fell from Katara's eye, leaving a trail down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away. "I don't like being like this," she finally said. "Being unable to control my emotions and—"

"And acting without thinking twice about what might come out of it? Yeah, me too." Zuko placed his hand on Katara's shoulder, perhaps the most intimate gesture between the two since the catacombs of Ba Sing Se.

Truth be told, if Zuko closed his eyes, he could still feel her cool fingers pressed against his flesh, even though he'd lost sense of feeling in his scar long ago. "But you didn't lose control, Katara. You didn't act on your emotions and you didn't kill him. And you're a stronger and wiser person than I ever was and probably ever will be."

"Would you kill your mother's killer?"

Zuko instantly jerked away, taken aback by the instant change of topic. Katara finally turned her head and focused her eyes on his. Her gaze was no longer angry, but very solemn and inquisitive. "I don't—she might not be dead," he said.

Katara frowned in confusion. "What?"

"It's a long story. But...she might be out there. Somewhere." Zuko uncomfortably shifted his gaze away from her. He didn't like how it affected him, made him catch his breath. He felt strangely naked around her, though he was fully clothed, like she was really _looking _at him, and he was looking at her. Katara was, after all, gorgeous. Like the sun: beautiful from the distance, but overwhelming if you got too close.

Ironic, because she was a waterbender.

"How do you know?"

Zuko fidgeted. He'd never disclosed exactly how he'd defected from the Fire Nation, the fact that he'd faced his father so head-on. "My father told me."

Katara's gaze softened. "Zuko, I don't want to be a downer, but for all you know your dad was lying."

"My father's a lot of things," Zuko said. "He's cold, heartless, cruel, delusional, and a horrible, horrible person…but he's not a liar. Even if he were lying, I don't want to…I need to believe he's not lying. Because if I dismissed it as a lie, and my mother's actually out there somewhere, but I never go looking for her…"

"You need to have hope," Katara finished for him. She watched as the sun crept higher in the sky.

"In the middle of the war, that's basically all we have going for us," he replied. He felt her watching him but, for whatever reason, felt himself unable to meet her eyes. "I was crazy enough to believe that the Avatar was out there. I'm still crazy enough to believe my mom's out there, too."

The pair flinched when they heard a familiar roar—Appa. Zuko turned around, seeing a tiny bald figure jog lightly down the pier, Appa lumbering behind him. "It's Aang." Zuko saw the sour taste on her lips, and, knowing that Katara still hadn't completely sorted things out, said, "I'll tell him."

As Zuko stood up and walked towards the bald monk, Katara's voice halted him once again, her fingers reaching up to grab his palm. He turned around to see that she wasn't even looking at him. "Hey, Zuko?"

The skin-to-skin contact was enough to cause Zuko to feel his heart echo in his chest as he said breathlessly, "Yeah?"

"Thanks." And just like that, the moment was over, because Katara released his hand.

Zuko stared at Katara's back, her long dark hair swaying softly in the wind. He blinked, wondering what exactly had just happened, and what exactly he was feeling.

Later that day, Zuko lay back alone in his tent, drifting off to sleep. He lifted his right hand and closed his fingers down into a fist, staring down hard at it, as if to pull out the memory into reality.

The brush of Katara's fingertips against his palm was seared into his memory, but it didn't burn the way that his father's fire had once burned is face. It wasn't a violent, painful fire. It was a gentle fire, a soothing one, one that kept him warm and comforted. _I'm ready to forgive you,_ she'd said to him earlier, promptly before surprising Zuko with a hug. Those five words had a sense of resolution to them, but even more than that, they had a sense of _beginning_ to them.

Zuko sighed, turning on his side. Now wasn't the time to think about girls, Zuko knew—just look at how he and Mai ended up. But that didn't stop him from wondering what the post-war life would look like.

_Hope_. In the midst of the war, Zuko had said that was all they had going for them.

Zuko could hear Katara's voice from outside his tent as she murmured apologies to Sokka, not yet completely back to her former temperament, but still as sincere and honest and kind as she ever was.

Hope, indeed, was everything.


End file.
